


In Our Image

by Belrayeda



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Empath Will Graham, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal patches them up and they escape, Immortality, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Married Couple, One Shot, Poetic Hannibal, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Someone Help Will Graham, Wendigo Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba, ambiguous time line, in the kitchen, side characters are all mentioned, they are other, will has trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22877989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belrayeda/pseuds/Belrayeda
Summary: There was only so much time before they had to move on, to discover what their new lives had to offer, what the world could now offer to two newly birthed gods, blessed by Poseidon, refused by Hades and unwelcome in Zeus’ company. They have the world in the palm of their hands and would not squander this gift, together they would make the world in their image, but this gift did not come without a price. A price Will Graham has paid for countless times; mind, body and soul, so torn apart at the seams only Hannibal could suture him together with his steady hands and sure practice. But Will can only come together so many times, the teacup is broken, the gold overflowing from the cracks that there is little tea cup left. And Hannibal has never seen anything so beautiful in all the years that he's lived.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	In Our Image

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone, I finally had a chance to sit down and watch Hannibal for the first time ever last year and my goodness I didn’t realize I needed a show so heavy on my ideal aesthetics. It’s an incredibly captivating show and the chemistry between Hugh and Mads is electric, not only as friends between actors but in their characters as well.  
> This is my first time ever writing a fic for the Hannibal fandom and I hope I do you, and the characters, justice.  
> Oddly enough this all started with a dream I had where, when I woke, I had this exchange stuck in my head. Not necessarily between them but just a conversation I dreamt of, between who I’m not sure. I’ll include the simplified version at the bottom if any of you are curious about it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy,  
> Bon Appetit.
> 
> -Bel
> 
> I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to. This is purely fan made work.

They flew, the air cradling them in its embrace, carrying them onto their own becoming and when Hannibal was sure they were to sprout wings, they fell. One could argue their fall was as gentle as a mother with a newborn babe, settling her precious cargo in for the night. A fall so gentle, Lucifer and his legion of Fallen wept, for they will never know a redemption so forgiving or calm. And when they fell, it was in that single moment Hannibal knew Will had given away his choice. He wasn’t letting Hannibal choose, Will certainly wasn’t choosing himself but he was testing fate. Testing destiny one final time to see whether this was the path they were meant to follow, be it in life or in death.

Hannibal had never been so warm and so cold at the same time as he did when he and Will both broke through the surface of the tempestuous waves that swept them under and over, the clusters of sea-foam making the sea seem like a dream too surreal to even Hannibal's most vivid imagination. Throughout the turbulent waters, not once did they ever let go of one another, even when Hannibal was sure that Will had lost consciousness. Wills’ grip was like iron around Hannibal, fearing separation even in sleep.  
It was that thought alone that kept Hannibal fighting against the waves to bring them to shore, to fight against the wrong side of destiny. Will may have been comfortable leaving it an unknown power to decide their fate, but Hannibal was willing to relinquish only so much control. Which was very little to begin with and even less so now. 

Hannibal fought against the waves, using the very little strength he had left in his reserves to pull them towards the shore and onto the vacant beach, Will ever so pliant in his arms and if Hannibal was lucid he would almost think the sand itself split apart to welcome Will in it’s sandy embrace. As if now newly emerged from the ocean changed, no longer considered mortal, nor human, free from the natural laws of the world. The world had recognized them as gods and would treat them as such, bending and changing under their influence. 

He carefully felt for a pulse and when the gentlest flutter beat against the pads of his fingers Hannibal knew they would survive. They had bested a dragon, had wrestled with Poseidon in his realm and returned anew, Hannibal would not let such a gift go to waste. Hannibal allowed himself a moment to breathe and simply revel in the faint heartbeat against his fingers, enjoying the orchestra of sounds; from the drum of Wills heart, the crashing of waves behind him, and the rise and fall of his own breathing.  
He would commit this to memory and store it away in the winding corridors among his memory palace, painting the walls with the cacophony of sights and sounds. Until Hannibal was in his final days, he would forever remember this night with vivid clarity, from the cries of the sea gulls far off down the shore, to the scruff along Wills neck while his fingers still lingered on his throat. 

Hannibal carried Will just as he did back at Muskrat Farms and hunted along the shore until he saw the familiar set of stairs leading back to the house, carefully climbing the steps with Will in his arms like a holy sacrifice to his chosen deity. Hannibal had yet to hear any sirens but he knew there was only so much time before they had to move on, to discover what their new lives had to offer, what the world could now offer to two newly birthed gods, blessed by Poseidon, refused by Hades and unwelcome in Zeus’ company.   
Hannibal kicked open the door and quickly made his way to the couch, gently laying Will out and undressing him. He was clinical in the undressing, Will had to be dry and warm as soon as possible, he wasn’t surviving off adrenaline like Hannibal, though he knew he himself only had so much time before he too succumbed. 

Hannibal quickly left to return with some clothes he had stored in the master bedroom, clothes he knew wouldn’t fit the younger man well but it was wool and it would keep him warm. Hannibal quickly dressed him, Will already beginning to shake and his lips turning a darker shade of blue. Once Hannibal had Will fully dressed, he pulled one of the throw blankets and tucked it around the empath, hoping it would be enough. 

Hannibal grabbed a spare first aid kit from the bathroom and began tending to Wills wounds, taking advantage of his dormant state since he didn’t have any local anesthetic on hand or pain relievers, at least not at this house. Though Hannibal considered himself ever the prepared gentleman, leading and trapping a renowned killer to one of his secretive safe houses was never on the proverbial list. He would call this a learning experience and plan accordingly in future. 

Once Hannibal was sure he tended to the more life threatening injuries, it was then Will began to stir, some color returning to his face but still shaking under the layers.

“Shh, shh, shh…” Hannibal cooed, pressing his hand to Wills forehead, one to comfort but also to feel for any oncoming fever.

Will coughed, sea water and blood staining the throw but Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to lament the loss.

Will struggled against the blanket, almost panicking at being restrained and began to shout in alarm.

“Will, you’re alive, you’re alright.” Hannibal assured, trying to pin the younger man down with just one hand, if Will continued to thrash he would just open up the sutures and he wouldn’t have the blissful luxury of being unconscious to avoid the pain.

Will snapped his head to look in Hannibal's direction and, oh, Hannibal wished he had his sketchpad with him for Will had never looked so beautiful. 

His blue eyes were feral in its clarity, the moonlight reflecting in the whites of his eyes like pieces of starlight had decided to make Will their home, his pupils expanding upon seeing Hannibal and Wills breath caught in his own throat. Hannibal idly wondered if Will saw a change in him, just as he sees Will now.

“Hannibal…” he breathed out, reverence thick in his voice.

And Hannibal knew in that moment, he would do anything to have Will say his name like that again, anything to keep this ravenous creature by his side until Death herself came to take them.

“Hello Will.”

Will swallowed thickly before he spoke again, wincing at the taste of saltwater still coating his mouth and quickly darted out his tongue to wipe away at something Hannibal had missed.

“We...were...we survived.”

“We did much more than that Will, we were reborn.”

Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as deep as his injuries allowed him, and he let a small smile form on his lips.

“Of course we did.”

They both patched each other up, changing clothes for much warmer ones and got into the car, driving off to roam the world with their new chance at life, together. They had decided on Cuba, someplace warm and foreign yet close enough for them to return should they need to fulfill any promises left unfulfilled. They rested, they healed, they hunted and they loved. 

Hannibal had proposed first, ever the hopeless romantic, intimately declaring his intangible love for Will and that even with this ring he would never be able to claim Will, could never possess or contain the wild soul that was Will Graham. And with it Will Graham knew he in turn could capture the best of Hannibal's benevolence and devotion but could never control him in turn. Together they swore themselves to one another, lips locked together, with knives still tucked in their suits and a hand behind their backs. The eternal match between the mongoose and cobra.

But, you would be a fool if you’d believe Hannibal couldn’t help but dote and spoil his bride, his William, whispering his undying affections for the empath, carving the unspoken sonnets Hannibal had mentally written with his nails in the throes of their lovemaking. The red lines falling down Wills back like bloodied ribbons as a gift for Hannibal, a gift to the world too simple to deserve him. Hannibal spoiled his boy and would destroy empires if Will ever wished for it. 

Years went by and they knew they had been truly blessed by the gods themselves for time never really seemed to set in their face, the lines never changing, never growing, stuck in time together to make the world theirs, and they wouldn’t squander it.

Though life went on around them and their union went on as serenely as life such as theirs could go, though they knew the song and dance between them in their new life, the shadow of their past would always pay a visit and beautiful, wild Will, always took it the hardest.   
The rawest.   
The price for seeing.

Will had wiped everything off the island, the dishes and food clattering to the floor, shattered porcelain scattering away from Will in his anger.

“Will.”

Hannibal had thought, by making Abigails favourite dish, it would be something Will would appreciate, but they had never come to terms with what Hannibal had done, not fully. Will may have forgiven him but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

“Even now, even with me, you have to be _smug_ about it, rub the salt deeper into my wounds to let me know it had to be you. You didn’t have to kill her!”

  
“You yourself once said I was methodical in everything that I do, how is Abigail's death any different?”

  
Will ignored the question and pressed on.  
  


“I know her death was the price of my betrayal, why couldn’t you just have killed me and spared her!” he cried out, tears beginning to form in his eyes, threatening to spill over like silvery wine.  
  


Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back, looking calmly at Will, the barest of his lip curling. Just as it was for Will, Hannibal still felt raw over the betrayal and yet soothed at the poetic attempt at Will trying to salvage it by showing up that heart wrenching night.  
  


“Her death was necessary for you to see.”  
  


Will growled and threw another set of dishes to the ground.

“I already knew what you were, Hannibal.”

Will was always a stunning sight to see when he was angered, his chest heaving with every breath, his limbs shaking, the tips of his teeth barely peeking over his plush lips, lips that Hannibal knew better than his favorite sonnets and poems, lips that carried his name on labored breaths and safest in his mouth. Will Graham's anger was that of a slighted god and Hannibal wanted to unleash him, but he knew there was a time and place for everything.

Hannibal tilted his head slightly and blinked before answering.  
  


“You’ve already claimed that you could see me, sweet boy, of that I have no doubt. I’m not calling into question your gift Will, what I’m referring to is the extent of my mercy when it comes to you. Yes, your betrayal needed to be...addressed.”  
  


Will snorted derisively, but Hannibal continued.  
  


“What I did that night would have had a vastly different outcome had I not cared for you. Instead, I would have ended Abigail right in front of you, kept you alive and well, not one curl out of place.” 

Hannibal took a step towards Will, his shoes breaking the remaining porcelain fragments on the kitchen floor, a hand rising up to brush the curls that framed Wills face before he continued to speak. But Will did not step back, he didn’t move, he had no reason to fear Hannibal, he didn’t have anything to be afraid of, not anymore.

“Then, I would have gone outside and ended Alana while leaving Uncle Jack to exsanguinate in my pantry. Proceeded to drive all the way to Wolf Trap and dealt with your dogs, all while you were present so that perhaps in the next life, you might learn your lesson.” The way Hannibal spoke, his words were syrupy and thick, full of adoration and bordering on idolatry, but Will recognized the sharp look in Hannibals’ maroon eyes.

And in that moment Will saw the true self that Hannibal Lecter was, the hunter rather than the poet. It had been years since Will had seen him, as true as he looked now, and Will couldn’t deny the ache he had for that monster, his monster. The monster hidden under the beautiful wrapping of luxurious three pieced suits, the subtle scents of only the finest cologne, the calm exterior barely containing the savage creature underneath, who saw the world as nothing but some thing to be conquered. Sheep to be herded.

Hannibal may have incurred an old wrath from Will but he too would respond in equal strength, his only match. He took another step towards Will and inhaled slightly, as if trying to commit Wills’ scent to memory, and Will wondered for one moment if this would be the day he would die. After all, only a God could kill another God.

Hannibal placed his fingers over Wills abdomen, knowing exactly where the faded scars laid against newly tanned skin from lounging under the Cuban sun, Hannibal downright mournful over the fact that they could not risk being seen in Florence, and how magnificent Will would look, outlined in a halo of gold leaf and splattered in crimson, how Botticelli himself would have wept at the mere sight of him against the Tuscan sun. Perhaps, in a few years.

Hannibal applied the barest of pressure against the mark he gifted Will on that night.

“And finally, I would have aimed a little lower and closed the chapter that was Will Graham. That would have been the true price _mylimasis_. The right price.”  
  


And Will asked a question he had been hungry for the answer to.  
  


“You wouldn’t even have consumed me, would you.”  
  


Hannibal leaned in and hovered his teeth over the exposed jugular, the curls of Wills just tickling the bridge of Hannibal's nose. Will wished Hannibal had just bitten him and tore into his neck like he did to the Dragon on the night of their becoming.  
  


“I believe you already know the answer to that my darling boy.”  
  


And in all honesty, Will couldn’t be sure he did.  
  


“I’ll have to start over on the cooking, but if you could clean up the mess you’ve made, I’d be delighted.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Wills head and brushed past him to start on dinner.   
  


Though they were both predators in their own right, both killers and hunters, Will remembered what it was like to live as the sheep they now hunted, and could recognize when he was in the presence of a predator and wept for the world.  
  


* * *

And somewhere in the heavens the gods looked down in horror and in wonderment at what they had blessed and knew that once they had lost their appetite for man, that the gods would be next on their hunt and elevated to a state only Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham could grant them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my first ever Hannigram fic, I hope you liked it!
> 
> Per the exchange I hastily wrote down in my Samsung Notes so I wouldn't forget the dream.
> 
> Her death was the price of my betrayal
> 
> Her death was necessary for you to see
> 
> I already knew what you were Hannibal
> 
> You've already claimed that you could see me, dear boy, that I have no doubt. Im not questioning your gift Will, what I'm referring to is the extent of my mercy. Yes, your betrayal needed to be...addressed. what I did that night would have been vastly different had I not cared for you. Instead, yes I would have ended Abigail. Gone outside and ended Alana and let Uncle Jack exsanguate in my pantry. Then drive all the way to wolf trap and deal with your dogs, all while you were present so that perhaps in the next life you might learn your lesson. ' he took a step towards will and inhaled slightly, as if trying to commit will's scent to memory' And finally 'he placed the barest pressure against the mark he placed on Will that heart wrenching night' aimed a little lower and closed the chapter that would have been Will Graham. That would have been the true price. The right price.
> 
> You wouldnt...have even eaten me, would you.
> 
> I believe you already know the answer to that my darling boy.
> 
> 'And in all honestly Will couldnt be sure he did.'
> 
> Dinner will be ready in 10. 'He pressed a kiss to the top of will's head and brushed past him to finish dinner.'
> 
> Comments are always welcomed!


End file.
